


The Adventures of Auror Ron Weasley: The Case of the Jewel Thief

by ballerinaroy



Series: nineteen years later seems pretty far away [14]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Friendship, Matter of Life and Death, Mortality
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-19
Updated: 2019-12-28
Packaged: 2021-02-24 15:34:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21860257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ballerinaroy/pseuds/ballerinaroy
Summary: While in pursuit of an internationally wanted jewel smuggler, an unsuspecting exchange threatens Auror Ron Weasley’s life. With no cure in sight, he, his best mate Harry and new wife Hermione are forced to face his mortality. Will they be able to find the cure in time?
Relationships: Hermione Granger & Harry Potter & Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley
Series: nineteen years later seems pretty far away [14]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1263350
Comments: 29
Kudos: 41





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to [ Inareskai](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inareskai/) for the revisions and reassurance.

Ron couldn’t believe he’d forgotten his gloves. And on today of all days. It’d been miserable enough in London, but he wasn’t even there, sent to bloody Moscow on a tip that the wizard he’d been hunting for weeks had been spotted. 

It was a small comfort that Edik Ivanovich had indeed made an appearance, justifying why Ron found himself about to freeze his fingers off in the middle of a stone alley in the heart of Moscow’s wizarding market. Wearily Ron watched the blonde wizard as he exited the posh robe shop he’d spent a good quarter of an hour perusing. 

“Come on,” Ron muttered to himself. “Just make the bloody transaction so we can both go home.” 

He had the extradition order in his pocket, only needed to witness Ivanovich breathing around the gems he was known to smuggle and then he could be back in London, hopefully with all of his fingers intact. But Ivanovich clearly had no sympathy for Ron or his lack of appropriate winter wear for instead of making any meaningful progress, he continued down the alley, looking interested at the apothecary next door. 

“Bloody hell,” Ron muttered, shifting his weight to keep warm. 

He should have just gone home to fetch his gloves, Ron decided for the dozenth time as he brought his painfully white fingers up to his mouth to warm them. Never mind that the reason he’d been in such a hurry this morning was to avoid his wife for fear that they would resume the spectacular row they’d gotten into the night before. He hadn’t even known what he’d done but he’d come through the fireplace grate to a pissed off Hermione and spent the night having the stupid argument with her. 

Okay, he knew what he’d done. The debate over doing the dishes was a long-standing one with them. He still maintained that she was never happy when he did the dishwashing charm. And she still argued that it was his house and he ate off as many dishes that she did. She had a point. But it wasn’t like he was useless around the house, he did the sweeping and cooked more nights than her. He just happened to be useless with the bloody dishwashing charm and she happened to be brilliant at it. 

Ron pushed thoughts of his wife from his mind as his target gave up on the display and glanced down at a pocket watch. Careful to make sure that he hadn’t been spotted Ron moved from his hiding place and turned onto the main street, tailing the platinum hair that so reminded him of the Malfoys. He’d have to ask Hermione if there was any relation. Once she was done being cross with him of course. 

He’d been so focused on the wizard that Ron hadn’t looked where he was going and stopped just short of knocking over a woman pushing a cart twice her size stacked dangerously high with knick-knacks. 

“Sorry,” he muttered in English, forgetting where he was as he tried to move past her. 

Up ahead he watched his mark pause, glance down an alleyway and then pull up his hood, making it much harder to distinguish who it was in a crowd of black cloaks. If Ron lost him now...

“Vive?” the woman asked, refusing to let Ron get around her. 

“What?” he asked, glancing down just as she took his hand in hers and placed a clunky bracelet in it. 

“For vive,” she said firmly, closing his hand around it. 

“No, sorry,” he said, trying to hand it back to her. He could just make out Ivanovich in the distance, at least he was pretty sure it was him. 

“For vive,” the woman repeated. For a tiny witch, she had a surprisingly strong grip, her fingers holding his fist tight. “Make happy.” 

“I don’t-“ Ron said, trying to peer around the cart, but he knew it was already too late. 

“5 gold” she said to him. 

“I don’t have any money,” he said irritably to her. 

“5 gold” she repeated, holding out her other gloved hand expectantly. 

Ron yanked his hand out of her grasp. 

She began shouting in her native language, words Ron could only just make out. 

“I’m not paying you 5 gold pieces for this rubbish,” he said angrily, tossing the bracelet to the ground. 

Immediately he regretted it. While she’d been putting up enough of a fight cornering him, tossing her rubbish aside was clearly a mistake. Instantly she began to scream, pointing at him and making a sound as if he’d just assaulted her. The passerby who just seconds ago had been pointedly ignoring her now seemed ready for vengeance for his disrespect of the peddler. 

Ron was no Harry, but inevitably someone always seemed to recognize him when he didn’t want to be and he hadn’t been too creative with his disguise, thinking he’d have a hood covering his face. His target was lost and by the looks of the crowd, he was about to be a very unpopular visitor. 

Before the wizards who’d been slyly drawing their wands had a chance to make an example of people who upset tiny old women, Ron grasped his own wand and disapparated back to his own country. To face his own upset boss. 

Gawain hadn’t yelled, which somehow made it all the more worse. In fact, he’d had the nerve to look  _ amused _ when Ron had told him why exactly he’d lost sight of Ivanovich on the first real lead they’d had in weeks. 

“Couldn’t defeat a tiny old lady?” Harry said with a smirk. 

“What was I supposed to do?” Ron asked, “Curse her?” 

Harry shook with silent laughter. 

“And what are you doing in here anyway?” Ron snapped, “Don’t you have your own case?” 

Harry’s smile disappeared. He’d been having about as much luck as Ron had been having to chase down Ivanovich. Harry’s problem hadn’t been finding Mr. Aubin, but rather catching him doing anything illegal. Like selling off the cursed books they knew for a fact he’d had a wand in crafting. They were sure he’d been tipped off somehow, leaving Harry to watch him as he went about a perfectly normal routine. 

“Our friend Mr. Aubin has decided to take a trip to visit family in France until he returns we’ll have to trust our counterparts there on keeping track of his social calendar.” Gawain said, “I was hoping until Aubin’s return that Harry would be able to lend you an extra pair of eyes.” 

“Well sure, I’d be happy to show him the ropes,” Ron said mockingly and Harry glared at him. 

There was a knock at the door and they turned to find Darcy, a new junior Auror standing in the doorway. 

“Very well, take the afternoon to fill him in,” Gawain said dismissively, beckoning Darcy in. 

Harry and Ron took their leave, hurrying out of the office as Darcy rather looked on the edge of tears. 

“I didn’t think you’d be back,” Neville said, looking up as they passed his cubicle. “Hermione stopped by a couple of hours ago, I told her you were out.” 

“Thanks,” Ron said and then shyly asked. “Er-did she seem alright?” 

“Fine,” Neville said with a shrug. 

“You two fighting again?” Harry asked, looking at him knowingly. 

“Why do you say  _ again  _ like that? We don’t fight very often,” Ron said defensively. Neville and Harry shared a look and Ron added in a warning tone. “Not anymore.” 

Harry looked amused but too quickly Neville returned to the anxious look he seemed to be wearing most of the time Ron came across him. 

“You alright Neville?” Ron asked of him, concerned.

“Yeah,” Neville shrugged, gesturing down to the stacks and stacks of paperwork. “Just this case.” 

Ron peered over at his cubicle wall where a map detailed each and every last dragon sighting from the past five years. Neville, most, unfortunately, had been caught in the middle of an illegal dragon egg purchase while investigating an old murder. The Auror who’d been slacking on the case for the past five years had been all too happy to hand the entire file over. 

“Anything we can do?” Harry offered. 

Neville shook his head. “Darcy’s supposed to be helping me, but I don’t know where she’s run off too.” 

Ron was about to tell her that they’d just seen her when Harry shot him a warning look and he had the sense to close his mouth. Neville had become increasingly irritable in the six months since he’d taken on the case and was prone to be short in his frustration. It was no wonder he rotated through junior Aurors at least every fortnight. 

“No,” Ron said, not appreciating that Harry had stepped on his foot to make his point. “I’ll let her know you’re looking for her if I see her though.” 

“He’s thinking of quitting,” Harry said in a low tone as they bid Neville goodbye and continued towards their shared cubicle. 

“What?” Ron asked in surprised and Harry nodded gravely. 

“Hannah’s pretty well fed up with him being irritable all the time and told him that he either needed to make a change or she was going to break up with him.” 

“He has a ring,” Ron said in surprise. 

“And Hannah said she wouldn’t accept it because she wasn’t going to marry someone she couldn’t stand being around.” 

“Shit,” Ron said, dropping into his chair. “Where’d you hear all this?” 

“Ginny stopped by the pub for lunch yesterday,” Harry explained. “She asked how things were going and Hannah burst into tears, told her everything. Mind, I don’t think she wants everyone knowing.” 

Ron snorted. “Who am I going to tell? Besides Hermione of course.” 

“Just don’t let it get any further,” Harry warned. 

Ron nodded, looking up at Harry. He had yet to sit down and was hovering suspiciously by his cloak. Ron raised an eyebrow at him. 

“Speaking of Ginny, mind if I leave early?” Harry asked. “She’s got the next three days off, I was hoping to get home before she did.” 

Ron shrugged. “I don’t see why not. You already know as much as I do about Ivanovich”. 

Even though they weren’t formally partnered on their cases, they talked through it like they talked through everything. Harry knew Ivanovich’s slippery habits just as well as Ron knew Mr. Aubin’s bridge schedule. 

“At least it’ll be an easy couple of weeks,” Harry said, pulling on his cloak. 

Ron nodded. “There’s that. Tell Ginny I say hi.” 

“You two should come round for dinner tomorrow,” Harry offered, pulling on his gloves. “But only if you’re not still fighting.” 

“We could go over the file,” he said warningly but Harry merely grinned and waved goodbye. 

Crookshanks was the only thing there to greet him when Ron gave up on his report a good hour later. As he’d hoped, Hermione was still at work and it gave him plenty of time to finish off the source of their argument before it started up again. 

It was a stupid disagreement really. But they seemed to be having a lot of stupid arguments as of late. He wondered, for just a moment, if he was becoming irritable like Neville. Would he even notice himself becoming miserable to be around? Or would it take Hermione threatening to leave him for him to realize the damage his job was doing? The thought was sobering and was why he’d rushed the last half of his day so he could surprise her. 

The cat meowed in greeting as Ron toed off his shoes. 

“‘Lo,” he said, taking off his cloak carefully putting it in the right place. He bent down to scratch the cat behind the ears and followed the cat into the kitchen where he sat down in front of his bowl and looked at him expectantly. 

“You know you don’t get fed until we do,” he reminded the cat, bending down to fill his water dish. His first silent  _ aguamenti _ produced nothing but his second audible one gave a stream of water that quickly replenished the dish. “Hermione doesn’t want a house we have to put work into, but I’m sure you wouldn’t mind a house with plenty of mice.” 

Crookshanks meowed again, looking interested and Ron chuckled as he straightened. 

He turned to the sink and predictably found it just as full as it had been the night before. He cast the dishwashing charm at it hopefully and while the sink obligingly filled up with soapy water, it didn’t seem to be getting the dishes very clean. In fact, when he picked a cleaned plate up to rinse it, he found it sticky with some dried substance. 

“Bloody useless,” he grumbled, cursing his wand and how much easier this all would be if Hermione just waved her wand. 

For perhaps a solid minute he glared at the dishes. Leaving them like this would only lead to another fight because Hermione wouldn’t believe he’d attempted to finish them. Truth was, looking at it, if he didn’t know any better he wouldn’t have even thought he’d done anything either. Upset that his wand hadn’t worked he pushed up his selves, waved the water to a more acceptable temperature and set about doing it the muggle way. 

Consumed by the pointless task, he hadn’t heard her come in and was surprised to feel her hands slip around him from behind, pressing herself to his back. Determined to stay cross at her for at least as long as it took to finish, he acted as if he hadn’t noticed her at all. 

“I’m sorry,” she whispered a moment later. 

Her voice was muffled from her face being pressed into his shirt and he softened, reaching for a towel to dry his hands before turning to face her. She loosened her grip only for him to turn and then lay her head on his chest. 

“I shouldn’t have gone off on you yesterday. I wanted to apologize this morning but you’d gone and when I stopped by at lunch you had already left for the day.” 

“I got sent out first thing,” he explained. 

“That’s what Neville said,” Hermione replied, peeking up at him. “I’m so sorry, Ron. I’ve been dealing with those entitled prats in Magical Games and Sports all week and I shouldn’t’ve taken it out on you.” 

“It’s alright,” he assured her, giving her a squeeze. “I use as many dishes as you, the least I can do it clean them.” 

Hermione gave him a relieved smile leaning up to kiss him. 

“What do you say we go out?” he proposed. “No dishes and you can tell me all about those arseholes in Magical Games and Sports and I’ll tell you all about this pushy witch that I encountered.” 

“Could we go someplace muggle?” Hermione asked. “I don’t think I can stand hearing one more word about Quidditch.” 

“Any excuse to get you into a pair of jeans,” he said suggestively, reaching down to squeeze her bottom. 

“Ron,” she said in surprise, giving that little laugh he delighted in. She kissed him again before finally letting go. 

“Would you mind feeding Crookshanks?” she asked, making her way towards the bedroom. “I won’t be a minute.” 

They ended up in a corner booth at a pub just down the street, far from all the other patrons who were gathered at the bar, watching the match on the telly. It was good they were so secluded because after Hermione had her first glass of wine she positively went off about how those _arrogant, entitled pricks_ in Magical Games and Sports _had the nerve to demand expedited permits_ to build a new stadium on land that _has been protected as a breeding ground for Thestrals_ _for centuries._

Ron listened intently for the first half-hour, “mmh-ing” and gasping at all the right parts, but as she began mumbling to herself about some obscure laws he let his mind wander, knowing he wouldn’t be much help. He glanced over at the screen just as another goal was scored, prompting a disappointed outburst and groans from the small crowd. His mind drifted back to the last time he’d been at a bar, feigning an interest in football. It’d been on his first solo case. Now, with several dozen beneath his belt, his insecurities seemed silly. In fact, he and Harry were among the most successful in the office. 

“Ron?” Hermione asked, drawing his attention back to her. She looked a little upset. “What were you thinking about?” 

“The night I propose to you,” he answered truthfully enough. 

Her disappointment vanished and she looked amused. “Really?” 

“Mmh,” he agreed, settling back against the booth and knocking his foot against hers. “I was sitting at a bar, not so different from this one and looking ‘round at the blokes and I thought to myself that if I ever messed things up with you that I’d hate to see you here. So I went home and tricked you into marrying me so I wouldn’t have to follow you around to bars like some crazy person.” 

“Some trick that was,” Hermione answered, smiling. He felt her foot pull away and then a second later it ran against the inner part of his leg. 

“Greatest trick I ever pulled,” he said, dropping his voice. “You might even say I’m a wizard.” 

Hermione giggled, just as the barman came over to their table. 

“Everything alright?” He asked of them, looking pointedly at Ron’s plate that was only half-eaten. “Could I get a box for you?” 

Hermione looked down at her finished plate expectantly and then over at Ron’s and frowned. 

“That’s alright,” he replied. He’d never had much luck warming up muggle leftover containers. The few times he’d tried the boxes had just melted. “We’ll just take the check.” 

The man nodded and left. At once, Hermione rounded on him. 

“Are you alright?” She fussed. “You barely touched your dinner.” 

“I just wasn’t hungry,” he shrugged. 

“Did you have a big lunch?” She questioned and he shook his head. 

He’d snagged some ice mice when he’d followed his target into a store in hopes of overhearing his conversation only to be cornered by a clerk. 

“I’m just tired,” he explained, “I didn’t sleep well last night.” 

Which was true enough. It had taken him forever to fall asleep and then he’d woken up early to sneak out while she was in the shower. 

“Let’s get you home,” Hermione said, looking worried. “You can take a nice hot shower and we’ll turn in.” 

Ron smiled to himself. He’d never admit it out loud, but he rather liked it when she fussed over him. It’s what made his increasingly frequent injuries bearable. The barman returned with their check and Hermione quickly counted out the right money and set it on top of the bill. 

“Trying to get me in the shower are you?” He teased, stretching as he stood and gathering their coats. 

“Ron,” Hermione said sharply. 

“Oh, come on, that wasn’t even that dirty. You-“ 

“No, Ron look!” Confused, he looked to where she was pointing. 

His sleeve had ridden up when pulling their coats from the hooks. To his alarm he saw that his freckled forearm had a sickly grey hue, extending up into his sleeve. It was like looking at his skin through a pair of tinted glasses and a wave of nausea passed over him looking at it. 

“Don’t touch it,” he said sharply to Hermione as reached for him. 

Hermione withdrew her hands, looking up at him anxiously. “I think we’d better get you to the hospital.” 

  
  



	2. Chapter 2

“What?” 

“It appears that you’ve been cursed. Likely from an object and recently,” the healer repeated patiently. “Externally it only appears to have spread to your shoulder, but we haven’t been able to stop it’s internal progress entierly.” 

Hermione gripped his good hand painfully, the gray one now useless, propped up on pillows. 

“That witch,” Ron hissed, only it came out more strangled. They both turned to him. “Today at work she-“ 

“Auror Roberts has been notified and is investigating it.” The healer said helplessly. “Knowing the exact curse would speed things along.” 

She looked at him hopefully and Ron closed his eyes, trying to remember the object he’d been so focused on getting rid of. “It was a clunky bracelet, looked like junk, scratches on the side, maybe they were runes?” 

He peeked at her hopefully but the healer’s worried expression didn’t change even as she jotted down the new information. 

“We’ll keep working and hopefully Auror Roberts will be able to assist us.” 

Ron didn’t have much hope there. He’d been so preoccupied with Ivanovich and not being spotted that he had barely spared the witch a glance. She could be anyone, have gotten anywhere. 

“But you can fix this,” Hermione’s voice was desperate and her grip on his unharmed hand was becoming painful. “You’ll be able to fix this, won’t you? Even without the bracelet?” 

“We’ve got a team working on it right now,” the healer assured her. “As soon as we can identify the curse…” 

The healer’s eyes drifted from Hermione to Ron, looking at him with pity. “For now all we can do is administer potions to help with the pain.” 

Ron nodded and said for both their benefit. “I’m fine right now, honest.”

“I’ll be back as soon as I hear something” the healer promised and Ron nodded her away. 

The second the door shut, Hermione turned to him with tears in her eyes. “Are you really alright, because I can-“ 

“I’m fine,” he told her in a hollow voice. 

Hermione began fussing with his blanket, smoothing it out. It was obvious that she was trying very hard to hold it together and Ron found it hard to look at her distress. 

“I suppose I’d better let Harry know,” Hermione said after a minute, reaching into her purse. 

“Wait,” he called out, his voice sounding foreign. “Don’t bother him, it’s Ginny’s first break since training started. They’ve hardly seen one another since they moved in.” 

“Oh, Ron, he won’t be bothered, he’ll want to know.” 

But even as she spoke she drew her hand away from her bag and reached for his. 

“I know, I know it’s not that it’s just,” his voice still wasn’t quite his. “Just, stay here with me for a little bit, yeah?” 

They stared at one another, the silence between them unnatural. Ron wished he had the right words to say, words to comfort her but couldn’t think of any. 

“You know I love you, right?” he said and she nodded, tears welling up in her eyes. 

“Of course,” she told him, perching herself on his bed to be closer to him. “Of course I know that. And we’re going to have the rest of our lives to be in love.” 

“I know,” he said without any conviction. “But if something happens-“ 

“No,” she cut him off, letting go of his hand to grip either side of his face. “No, we can’t think like that, alright.” 

“Hermione-“ 

“No,” she said again, her voice rising. “No, they are going to figure this out and you are going to be  _ fine _ .” 

“I know,” he said, trying to put more effort into his voice. “But either way-“ She whimpered but didn’t cut him off. “Either way, I want you to know I’d do it all again. These past few years have been magical, and I am grateful every day that I have gotten to love you, that I tricked you into marrying me.” 

Hermione snorted. “It wasn’t a trick.” The tears began leaking down her face. “Because I’d marry you again tomorrow. I’m the lucky one.” 

“Even if I never remember to do the dishes again?” he teased. 

She began stroking his face. “So long as you promise to stay around and love me I’ll never even complain about a dirty dish ever again.” 

“Well, now I’ve got to stick around then,” he said jokingly. “Though I don’t know if you’d be the woman I married if you stopped nagging me altogether.” 

Hermione let out a giggle, wiping away her tears. 

“Come’mere,” he told her and she twisted around to toe-off her shoes before curling up beside him. “We’ll be alright, promise.” 

By morning prospects weren’t much better. The team of healers who’d worked diligently throughout the night had lost the gleam in their eyes and when they woke him up to try something new they were less excited and more apologetic. His few moments of rest were filled with forbidding dreams that he didn’t mind being woken from. 

At nine Harry burst through the door, startling them both with a frantic look in his eye and proceeded to be sulky about them not contacting him. 

“If you’re not going to be any fun then I’m not going to let you hang around my deathbed,” Ron warned Harry who rolled his eyes. 

“You’re not dying,” Hermione said firmly, looking to the healer who’d stopped in to update them. 

“We’re not seeing any progression of the curse,” she said kindly, but there was a worn look in her eyes. “We’ll continue on the suppressants while we wait for the team to find a solution.” 

It was the same update they’d been given every hour now. Ron nodded dutifully. “Thanks.” 

“No new pain?” 

Ron shook his head, glancing down at the still lame arm. 

“I’m off shift at the hour, I’ll stop in to introduce my replacement before I leave.” 

She hurried out the door, clearly not wanting to linger for any longer than she had to. Left behind was a thick silence where Hermione and Harry both stared at him.

“Are either of you going to go into work?” he asked, not really wanting them to leave but not sure he could stand them hovering. 

“I’ve already called off,” Hermione said, looking horrified at the prospect of leaving him. “They understand.” 

“And you?” he asked of Harry. 

“Well, when  _ I  _ showed up Gawain looked surprised to see me, something about my best mate being cursed,” Harry said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “So, no, I don’t think he expects me in today.” 

Ron tried catching Hermione’s eye but she was on the verge of tears again, unaware that Harry was continuing to solicit their apology. 

“I’m going to trade the both of you out for George and Ginny if neither of you are going to try and make me feel any better.”

Hermione rolled her eyes but it stopped her from fussing over his blankets again. She turned to Harry, who gave a reluctant grin. 

“Alright then,” Harry said, “I’ll start making comments about getting married too young so you never had to learn to do your laundry and you can be George, Hermione.” 

“Tosser,” Ron said, picking up his pillow and pretending to throw it at Harry. 

Harry ducked good-naturedly and relaxed his shoulders. 

“Boys,” Hermione admonished but she was smiling too. 

Feeling much better about the mood in the room Ron moved to put his pillow behind his head but when he sat up his vision blurred and suddenly found it hard to get air. 

“Ron?” Hermione asked, standing up at once and taking the pillow from him. 

“Fine,” he told her, relinquishing his grip and allowing her to fluff it behind him. He closed his eyes for a moment, breathing deeply. He could feel them staring worriedly at him. “Just waiting for you to brag about how much more money and less stress I could have if I wasn’t an auror.” 

When he opened his eyes they were both standing before him, wearing reluctant grins. 

“I thought I’d start by nagging you to have a baby so George and Angelina lose the heat from eloping like they did.” 

“It’s spreading again,” Ron said plainly to the Healers when they came to say hello and goodbye at the shift change. They both just nodded grimly. 

The suppressants worked until they didn’t. Eventually, the curse had won out and despite efforts to increase his dose, Ron found himself becoming very aware that unless a solution was discovered very soon he might not make it. Ron had never given a lot of thought to his mortality. When they’d been in school there’d never been a question about following Harry no matter the danger. And then as an Auror, there was always backup and adrenaline rushes. But now this was different. 

“You’ll take care of her won’t you?” Ron asked Harry quietly the last time they were alone. 

It was alarming how quickly the curse had affected him. Just twenty-four hours before his biggest concern had been his forgotten gloves and a row with his wife. 

“Sorry?” Harry asked, looking up from the chessboard they’d been trying to distract themselves with. 

“If I die,” Ron said bluntly. “You’ll take care of Hermione.” 

“Of course I will, you know I will” Harry said quietly, staring at him hard. “But you’re not dying.” 

Ron refrained from rolling his eyes out of frustration. “You all can keep telling yourselves that all you want but the fact of it is they’ve quarantined me because they’ve got no clue what’s going on with me other than I’m dying.” 

“You’re not quarantined,” Harry argued. 

This time he gave in to the impulse. “I’ve got a private room and no one aside from you or Hermione has been to see me. I’m not asking how you two managed it because I have a feeling I’m not going to like the answer. Do you really want to lie to a dying man and tell me that they haven’t forbidden anyone from seeing me but you two ignored them anyway?” 

Harry blinked at him, clearly too stunned to reply. 

“Now, I know that unless they figure this out and soon my chances of ever leaving this bloody room aren’t good,” Ron said, his voice rising with his temper. “You may be in denial, but I’m not. I’m asking you to take care of my wife if I die.” 

Harry continued to stare at him and to Ron’s alarm, he found tears in his eyes. 

“I’m not stupid,” Harry managed in a strained voice. “I know what’s happening here, but could you please stop talking about dying like it’s something cheerful?” 

“I’m not being cheerful!” Ron said angrily. “I’m not happy to be dying. I’ve got a lot in life I still planned to do but if I’m not going to be here to do those things I need to know that Hermione’s taken care of and I need to know that you’re going to be alright enough to do that.” 

Harry’s jaw became hard-set but Ron’s frustration didn’t wane. 

“You’re my best mate, you’ve been my best friend since I was eleven. I have to know I can depend on you.” 

“I need you-“ 

“Harry-“ 

“Listen!” Harry snapped. “No, I’m not going to be alright. I know you’ve got Hermione and I’ve got Ginny but it’s never been the same with either of them. I need  _ you _ , Ron.” Harry broke off, pushing up his glasses and clearing his eyes. “You don’t get it, I’m not trying to deny what’s happening here, I know what’s happening here, this isn’t the first time I’ve sat by your hospital bed and contemplated your death. But the idea of you dying is the single most painful thing that I can think of. If it wasn’t for you I wouldn’t have any of it, I wouldn’t’ve been friends with Hermione, I would have never had your mum, I never would have had a family and if you’re not here then-“ 

Harry gave up on trying to appear that he wasn’t crying and stared Ron in the eyes. 

“If you’re not here then I everything about my life that I love will disappear.” 

“If you break up with my sister because of my death-“ 

“I’m not going to break up with Ginny  _ because _ you die-“ 

“Yes, well, all I’m saying is that I’m not all that great. You’re giving me a lot of credit for something I didn’t do.” 

“Something you didn’t do,” Harry scoffed. 

“Yeah, something I didn’t do.” Ron answered mockingly, “I might have invited you ‘round all those years ago, but the Weasleys don’t like you because you’re my mate, they like you for you. So if you stop showing up, if you try and drop out of the family because I die then mark my words Harry James Potter, I  _ will _ haunt you.” 

They stared at one another for several tense seconds and before grins split both of their faces. 

“Harry James Potter,” Harry mocked, clearing his eyes and laughing. “You’ve never used my full name.” 

Ron chortled, “Never had a reason to.” His laugh turned into a cough and a wave of exhaustion hit him as the argument swiftly ended. Harry openly stared at him but Ron didn’t want to get back into it. “I’m serious though, if you do something stupid then I will come back.” 

“It’s bound to happen at one point or another,” Harry said sarcastically. “Let’s just set a date now so I don’t have to wait around for you to show up again.”

They turned back to the game as if nothing had been said. It was only after several moves that Harry said in the most serious voice Ron had ever heard from him, “If,  _ if _ , something happens to you, I’ll make sure she’s alright. You don’t have to worry about that, it’s never been a question.” 

“Thanks, Harry,” Ron managed, suddenly rather choked. 

Neither of them spoke again for a very long time. 

  
  


“Any news?” Hermione said as the next overnight healer stopped by to introduce himself. 

It’s the third shift change they’ve seen and each new healer looks grimmer than the last.

“I’m afraid not,” the man said. “They’ve got several people in our lab dedicated to it, but they’ve not been able to make any progress.” 

Hermione sniffled and nodded. Ron was finding it hard to raise his head to nod. He’d been asleep most of the afternoon and every time he woke, it was a little harder to focus, to breathe. 

“You’re due for another round of pain management in an hour,” the healer said, stepping close to examine Ron. “But I could-“ 

“I’m fine,” Ron croaked out. 

“If you need anything, I’ll be on the floor,” he reminded them and gives them both a reassuring smile before departing. 

“You should go home,” he told her, “Go and-“ 

Ron found that he didn’t have enough air to finish the thought. 

“It’s alright,” she said firmly. “Harry went to feed Crookshaks and let Pig out. He said he’d bring me something to eat.” 

The bags under her eyes are starting to form and he felt awful knowing that it was because of him. He reached up to stroke her face but his hand trembled. She kissed his palm, gripping it with her own to hold it in place. 

“I love you,” she murmured. “I love you so much and we’re going to figure this out.” 

He wanted to thread his fingers through her hair, wanted to tell her everything is going to be okay but everything felt so heavy and his mouth didn’t seem to be working. He tried telling her he loved her, but all that came out was “Er-my-knee…” 

And he heard her voice desperately calling his name.


	3. Chapter 3

He had no ability to orient himself to time so whether hours, weeks, or months had passed was a mystery he hadn’t the energy to solve. He was never quite alert enough to speak or open his eyes but the few times he drifted to consciousness he was never alone. Hermione was always there, gripping his hand and narrating whatever book she was reading. Harry was almost always there too and the rest of his family drifted in and out of his dreams. Ginny, his dad, sometimes he heard George cracking jokes or his mother stroking his hair. 

He slept for longer and longer, coming to less and less. The pain started to feel far away. He was aware of potions being shoved down his throat so often he wondered whether or not they were trying to drown him. And then, the pain got worse.

Someone was moving him and it wasn’t with magic. Hands lifted him into a sitting position and then held him up as a second pair of hands pulled his legs over the side of the bed. An anxious voice protested. “I don’t think this is a-“ 

“Ambulation has proven in the aid of muscle recovery,” said a smart-sounding, older gentleman. “If he’s ever going to recover from the damage that the poison wrecked, then he needs to be moving.” 

Again, the first man’s voice. “I don’t know about-“ 

“This is a scientifically proven and standard practice in the muggle world. Now if you’ll excuse us.” 

Vaguely Ron knew the voice but before he could place it, he was hoisted to his feet and all he could manage was a groan. His arms were lifted and draped around someone’s shoulders. The man in front of him took a step and then hands on his calf guided his feet to follow. 

“Have you spoken with his parents about this? Perhaps they’d better be able-“ 

“I am his wife,” Hermione said fiercely from below him. “And I have the full support of his parents on this. I don’t need magical healing techniques explained to me by anyone. Now, if you’ll please, let us focus.” 

Ron couldn’t help the second groan he emitted, wondering why on earth someone has decided to try out a muggle torture technique on him. They took the third step and he shouted out again. 

“I know,” Hermione’s voice whispered in his ear and he’s suddenly aware of her hands on his side, encouraging him. “I know, just one more step.” 

He managed to contain his noise of protest and with a final step, he’s turned and slowly lowered into a chair. He tried holding his head up as the person who’d been supporting his steps back, panting. 

“See?” the smart-sounding man’s voice said triumphantly. “He’s already more alert.” 

Whoever had been protesting rushed over and there’s a cool wash of magic. “Well, there doesn’t appear to be any damage at the moment.” He lowered his voice and muttered to himself. “Muggle technique, honestly this is what happens when they let muggleborns-“ 

“ _ Hey _ .” Ron groaned in protest and the whole room fell silent. 

“Ron?” Hermione asked, hurrying over and putting her hand on his arm. “Ron, did you say something?” 

Her voice is eager and she sounded close to tears. Gently, her hands lifted his face and he tried opening his eyes to look at her, but can’t seem to manage. They flutter for a moment, but it’s too much effort and the comfort of darkness is much more inviting. 

“What did you say to him?” Hermione demanded of the healer eagerly and he muttered something, embarrassed. 

“Please make sure someone from my staff is here when you decide to continue this  _ experiment _ ,” the man said disdainfully. “I wouldn’t like an injury to go unreported.” 

“Unreported injury,” Hermione muttered angrily and the door shut before Hermione pulled away. There’s anxiety in her voice when she spoke again. “Are you certain this is a good idea?” 

_ No _ , Ron thought at once, but she wasn't talking to him. 

“It just seemed to hurt him,” Hermione continued. 

“I know dear,” the man’s voice said. “But it’s only because he’s lost so much because they’ve kept him in bed for so long.”

Hermione sighed, fussing with his collar. 

“There are still things to be learned from the muggle world,” the man said gently but there’s a certain arrogance in his tone. “That’s why you called me, isn’t it?” 

“Yes, it is,” Hermione admitted softly. “I just didn’t know what to do.” There’s a hitch in her voice and the man shifted uncomfortably on his feet. “Thanks, dad.” 

The next day he’s prepared when he’s awoken by Hermione’s chipper voice and the sheets are stripped from him. But it’s not Hermione’s dad who lifted him, but someone closer to his own height. 

“Be careful,” Hermione said anxiously as he’s lifted to his feet. 

“I got him, Hermione,” George reassured her. His voice his right in Ron’s ear and much too loud. “I remember what you did to Marietta, I’m not about to get on your bad side.” 

“ _ Don’t,”  _ Ron groaned. 

Hermione’d never quite gotten over the lasting effects that Marietta had been forced to endure. She’d tried several times since graduating to reach out to her, but all that had returned was a howler that arrived perfectly during her first time sitting in on an interdepartmental meeting between her office and the Ministers. 

They’d stopped moving the moment he’d tried to speak. 

“You there?” George asked jokingly. 

“Ron?” Hermione asked, putting gentle pressure on his side. 

They waited for a tense few seconds, but he couldn’t summon the energy to speak again. 

“He does that sometimes,” Hermione explained, sounding hopeful. 

“It’s good, isn’t it?” George asked, taking another step. 

“That’s what the research said,” Hermione agreed. “It helps cut down on recovery time. According to my dad if we’d been doing this all along then we’d have prevented a lot of the muscle loss.” 

“I thought you didn’t get along with your dad,” George said unassumingly as Ron was lowered down onto the chair. 

“He’s never really forgiven me for sending them away,” she said, sounding worn. “But, I just didn’t know what else to do. I needed my parents to tell me everything was going to be alright after he slipped into the coma.” 

Ron tried opening his eyes, wanting to comfort her, but they remained stubbornly shut. 

“And of course, my dad launched into it at once. I woke up the next morning and he had all these options lined out. He couldn’t help identify the curse of course, but there’s plenty more we could have been doing.” 

“Waited until the last minute to sort that one out, didn’t they?” George asked, sounding more like himself. 

“All that matters is they did,” Hermione said softly, and Ron felt her fingers brushing back his hair. “Now we need to focus on him getting better.” 

They were quiet for a minute and Ron heard George sit down. 

“How’s Angelina doing?” 

“She’s alright,” George said suspiciously. 

“Is her morning sickness any better?” Hermione asked. 

“I didn’t know you knew,” George said, surprised. 

Ron could almost picture Hermione rolling her eyes. 

“Honestly, Molly told everyone the second she knew,” Hermione said. “She was here with Harry the other day and started laying into him about how they needed to get serious about their future.” 

“As if Ginny would get pregnant in the middle of the season,” George said, chuckling. “No, she’s alright. Taking it easy. She’s not able to help in the store as much, but we’ve been talking about hiring on anyway. The store runs itself most days as it is.” 

Hermione didn’t say anything and they lapsed into a comfortable silence. 

“You know we’ll be here for you, no matter what happens,” George said after several minutes. “Whatever you need.” 

“I know,” Hermione said gently. “Ron already made Harry promise to take me in if it all goes…” she trailed off and Ron could feel her gently stroking the hair on his arm. “I really did luck out with my in-laws, didn’t I?” 

“I don’t know about that,” George said seriously. “You have ended up with Percy as well.” 

Hermione snorted. 

“Not to mention that Potter bloke should my sister ever decide to make an honest man out of him.” 

That time Hermione actually laughed. 

  
  
  


“Merlin Hermione, how did you dad manage to carry him all the way across the room?” Harry said the following day. 

“He’s not that heavy,” Ginny chided. “Put some effort into it, Potter.” 

“Easy for you to say,” Harry muttered. “You’ve just got his legs.” 

“Just because my dad is short doesn’t mean he’s not strong,” Hermione said. “You need to straighten up, don’t bend backwards.” 

Ron felt the belt around his waist tugging and Harry let out a breath of relief. It was much the same as the last few days. He was woken, the belt threaded around his waist and he stepped three times and sat in a chair for some time before going back to the bed. 

“Have you seen Neville?” Harry asked once Ron was comfortably in the chair. 

“Neville?” Hermione asked, doing her usual fussing over him. “No, he hasn’t stopped by for a few weeks.” 

“Oh, well, he handed in his notice today.” 

“He did what?” Hermione asked in alarm. 

“What happened?” Ginny continued. 

“He got accepted into the advanced herbology course here at St. Mungo’s,” Harry explained calmly. “It starts in May, but he decided he wasn’t going to wait that long. Not after all that business with the Chinese Fireball up in Devon.” 

“Don’t remind me,” Hermione said dryly. “They pulled everyone in my department too. Whole place has smelled like smoke since. As if we didn’t have enough going on. Is he going to propose then?” 

“He’s already tried,” Ginny said, “But she said no unless he has a job that let him be the cheerful, kind man she fell in love with. I told you about this ages ago.” 

“Oh,” Hermione said absently, “Right.” 

“He’s got a whole trip planned for them,” Harry continued. “Going to go on that traditional world tour that no one from our class seemed to do.” 

“Yes, well we were a bit preoccupied with You-Know-Who you know,” Ginny said dryly. 

Harry snorted. “Yes, well there was that.” 

“What about you two?” Hermione asked. “Anywhere you’d like to travel?” 

“I’ve never given it much thought really,” Harry said noncommittally. “I seem to get around enough with work.” 

“That’s not traveling, Harry,” Ginny pointed out. “If you spend every moment looking over your shoulder waiting to be cursed it’s not much of a vacation.” 

“I dunno, it’s how I’ve lived since I was eleven. Is there really a better way to live?” Harry asked jokingly and Hermione made a noise indicating she was not amused. Harry hurriedly asked her, “What about you?” 

“I’d like to go back to France,” Hermione said. “I used to go with my parents all the time. I’ve always wanted to take Ron there, show him the sights.” 

“Ooh, we’ve never been,” Ginny said. “Bill and Fleur invited me last summer, but I don’t think I could stand being around her family for so long.” 

“We could all go,” Hermione said, sounding suddenly enthused. 

“Yeah?” Harry asked, sounding interested. 

“Yes,” Hermione said and it was the most genuine excitement he’d heard from her since waking. “Oh, we could go next winter. Ginny, you’ve got a few weeks off, don’t you? And everything pretty well shuts down in our departments around Christmas. I could show you all the sights. Ginny, you and I could go to the museums and Harry you and R—“ 

She broke off very suddenly and emitted a loud sob. There was a flurry of movement and both Harry and Ginny seemed much closer. 

“He’s going to be alright,” Ginny said hurriedly. “The healers all agree he’s doing loads better.” 

“I know,” Hermione said miserably. “But it’s been a month since they found the counter curse and he’s just only starting to improve.” 

“But he is,” Ginny said soothingly, “He is improving.” 

“His breathing is better, he’s able to hold himself up a little more.” 

“I know,” Hermione sniffled. “I just really miss him.” 

She’d evidently pulled away because Ron felt her at his side again, taking his hand in both of hers and bringing it up to her mouth to kiss the back of his hand. Ron tried to squeeze back, but only managed to make his fingers twitch. 

“You should come and stay with us,” Ginny said suddenly, breaking off the mutterings going on in the background. “Just until-“ 

“He’s not dying,” Hermione said, sounding aghast. “I’m not going to move in with you because he’s not going to die. I won’t allow it.” 

  
  
  
  


“Go home, Hermione,” Harry said insistently. 

“I’m fine,” she said tensely. 

“Really?” Harry asked. “When was the last time you were away from this room?” 

Hermione sighed, “It’s not too bad here, I can get comfortable-“ 

“Then I’ll be just fine,” Harry interrupted.

“Are you sure?” Hermione asked in a quiet voice. 

“Go,” Harry insisted. “I’ll be here if anything happens.” 

Hermione let out a trembling breath and Ron felt her fussing with the covers and then her lips to his cheek. 

“If anything happens,” Hermione said in an anxious voice. 

“Then I’ll get you before the healers,” Harry said sarcastically and she snorted. “Go, Hermione. Get some sleep and relax. Nothing’s going to change tonight.” 

Ron heard her gather her things before bidding Harry goodnight and the room was rather quiet in her absence. But only for a moment. 

“I need you to wake up, mate,” Harry said, suddenly urgent. “It’s been long enough now, you should be doing better than this.” 

There was a pause and Ron pictured Harry staring down at him hopefully. Finally, Harry sighed and his chair creaked as he adjusted in it. 

“I want to propose,” Harry said hurriedly. “I left work early that day to go ring shopping and then I stood around the store like an idiot for almost an hour because I realized I needed your help. I don’t know what I’m doing or what she’d like and I don’t know if you’d be much better but…. I need you, Ron.” 

Ron strained against the bonds holding him back but was only rewarded with his eyes fluttering, a trick he’d picked up days ago and had long since impressing whoever was looking over him. 

“It’ll devastate her you know,” Harry went on. “For all we take the mickey out of you for rushing off to the altar, you make a good husband. I know that you are happy and that’s all I’ve ever wanted for you, for the both of you.” 

“Wake up, Ron,” Harry begged again. “I need my best mate and that’s always been you.” 

  
  
  


“I know you’re there Ron,” Hermione’s soothing voice begged. “Come on, I know you are.” 

Her hand was clasped in his and the fingers of her other hand gently stroked up and down his forearm. The sensation was pleasant, soft. 

“I’m doing everything I can to bring you back,” Hermione whispered, “But you’ve got to meet me halfway here.” 

She sniffled and he tried to open his eyes, to squeeze her hand, anything. 

“They found out what cursed you,” she went on. “That little old lady put up quite a fight you know. Harry took back all the teasing he did about you not being able to best her.” 

“The healers have done everything that they can. Now all that’s left is for you to wake up.” 

She paused, hopefully, and after a minute sighed. 

“I miss you so much,” her voice was losing its confidence. “It’s been too much to bear and I just, I need you to fight this Ron.” 

He could hear her swallow, feel her hand squeezing his as she rose and felt her lips on his cheek and her voice in his ear. 

“Fight it, darling, fight it for me.” 

He tried, tried to open his eyes even though they felt like they were made of lead, tried to squeeze her hand, give her some kind of hope but nothing in his body seemed to cooperate. All he could manage was a noise that rather sounded like a grunt even to him. He could feel her face hovering inches from his, studying him. Eventually, she gave up, sitting back down but didn’t remove her hand from his. 

She was right—but when wasn’t Hermione right? He had to fight this, had to try harder. He didn’t know for how long he’d been out, lying in this bed hopelessly while those he loved hovered around waiting for his death. This wouldn’t be the end of his story, not now. 

“Er-my-knee,” it took all of his energy to mumble her name and he wasn’t really sure she’d heard him. 

“Ron?” a sleepy voice answered. 

“Her-my-o-nee,” it took more effort this time, trying to force open his eyes, trying to come to. 

“Ron?” Hermione asked again, her voice eager and full of life. “Ron, can you hear me? Squeeze my hand.” 

It took every ounce of concentration he had to remember how to work his fingers, his fist, but Hermione laughed with relief. 

“Stay right here, I’m going to get a healer.” She told him, squeezing his hand and laughing again before rushing from the room. 

Where else would he go? 

There was a bustle of movement, someone brightened the lights and then the cooling sensation of magic on his skin. 

“Ron?” an unfamiliar voice called. “Mr. Weasley, can you hear me?” 

“Er-my-knee,” he groaned again, wondering where she’d gone. 

“I’m here,” she said, giving that delighted laugh again. 

Merlin, he’d missed that laugh. That laugh was the best sound he’d ever heard. He was going to make it his mission to hear that laugh every day for the rest of his life. 

“Can you open your eyes?” the commanding healer asked. 

He liked that sound a whole lot less but tried to obey her never-the-less. He managed to flutter his eyes but someone had made the lamps too bright and all he could make out were distant silhouettes. He turned towards the one with the bushiest hair on his left. 

His fingers tensed against her palm and she squeezed back. 

“I’m here,” she assured him. “I’m right here.” 

It was like swimming to the surface of a very deep river, fighting against the current, his muscles straining from lack of air and the closer he got to the surface the more inviting the thought of having a rest was. 

“I was talking to him earlier,” Hermione was explaining now. “I thought he might be listening but he didn’t respond… I’m not sure exactly, I must’ve drifted off.” 

Funny, he thought she just had been talking to him. It took a lot more effort, and several low groans but finally he was squinting against the lamps and looking, for the first time, at the face of his wife. 

“Ron,” she said, laughing with relief. “Oh, darling, you don’t know how happy I am to see those eyes.” 

He wanted to return the sentiment but couldn’t get his mouth to work right, but it didn’t seem to matter. The healer that’d been flitting in and out of his dreams cleared her throat. 

“It’s good to see you again Mr. Weasley,” she said, “Let’s get you some water.” 

He hadn’t realized how parched he was until she’d said something but when she reappeared before him with a cup of water it was the answer he’d been searching for. 

The water felt strange drifting down his throat. Had he forgotten how to swallow? But Hermione was there at once, wiping off his chin and grinning at him stupidly. 

He looked only at her, trying to work his mouth into the question but it wouldn’t cooperate. 

“Too long,” she answered, understanding without words. “But it’s alright. You’re here now.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What a lovely way to end the year. I'm still working on clearing out all of the nearly finished stories from my computer before tackling anything new so be sure to subscribe for more Romione/trio goodness. I post drabbles and previews on my[Tumblr](https://ballerinaroy.tumblr.com/)!

**Author's Note:**

> Check me out on [Tumblr](https://ballerinaroy.tumblr.com/) for drabbles and more Romione!


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